


Nightmare Eater

by UnknownCharacter (UnknownRegion), UnknownRegion



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Butsuma's A+ Parenting, Dimension Travel, Dreams and Nightmares, Gluttony, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, M/M, Senju Tobirama Needs a Hug, Superstition, Tapir!Madara, Tiny!Madara, Uchiha Madara Has Issues, Uchiha Madara-centric, Warring States Period (Naruto), Youkai, baku, dream eater, onmyōji
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-01-30 10:26:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21426694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnknownRegion/pseuds/UnknownCharacter, https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnknownRegion/pseuds/UnknownRegion
Summary: When Madara breathed out his last words, he did not foresee getting up ever again. He should've known better than to tempt fate by now.(In which Madara wakes from his death, became an animal, and is then introduced to the world of youkai and onmyoji. Chaos ensues.)
Relationships: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara
Comments: 37
Kudos: 321





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Kamikakushi](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10951566) by [PandaFlower](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandaFlower/pseuds/PandaFlower). 

> This story is brought to you by Mister Procrastination and Miss Spur-in-the-moment. My plotbunnies bred an egg that was filled with three types of themes: Japanese mythology and folklore, shapeshifting, and de-aging. It was too much of an exciting combination to throw into the recycling bin.
> 
> Update schedule: whenever Mister Procrastination and Miss Spur-in-the-moment decide to collaborate again.

When Madara breathed out his last words, full of heartbreak and heavy with acceptance, he did not foresee getting up ever again.

With his gradually dimming vision, he envisages Hashirama's optimistic appeal to drinking together before submitting to eternal damnation. The image in his head, of Hashirama's joyous laughter and his quiet amusement as they toasted for a final time, was appealing.

Madara unexpectedly only feels a certain fondness for the man, not an ounce of bitterness clouding his sight at the impossible proposal. Hashirama has always had a way with words, always the romanticist, always the dreamer. The corners of his chapped lips gave the barest of upwards tilt as he observes Hashirama's undead visage slowly wane from his peripherals, his surroundings turning obscure.

"Well... I suppose... if you... insist... that's fine... b_y m_-"

He would have preferred to openly enunciate his agreement, or perhaps even respond with a simple _yes, that sounds nice_, but it plainly wasn't meant to be.

Human emotions were such tricky things to control, and even when at death's door, Madara's agreement to Hashirama's conciliatory offer remained abstruse and petulant at best. As a soldier trained by a callous father since the day he could remember, other than rage, he was never given the chance to express himself with words alone, lest he desired the taste of his father's fists.

Ah, Madara muses with a touch of regret, such a shame. It would have been gratifying to emote with clarity for once in his life.

If his soul had not departed by then, Madara would have laughed wearily at Hashirama's mournful response to his choice of final words, cracked eyelids with an undertone of grey lowered as if he was crying despite his undead body's incapability to produce tears.

_"Stubborn 'til the very end... That sounds just like you, old friend."_ The painfully affectionate whisper, rather than being heard by its intended, fell onto deaf ears.

* * *

Madara, by all accounts, _should_ not have regained any sort of awareness after that debacle he called a _master plan._

(_He does_.)

Madara was startled awake by the sudden hooting of an owl, the rustling sound of leaves on trees, and the nostalgic scent of rainforests in a place where nature should be barren as only ruins were left following the wake of chaos which ensued the Fourth Shinobi World War. His level of alertness jumped from zero to ten in a matter of seconds.

Shinobi instinct took over.

He simulates unconsciousness whilst simultaneously checking his body's condition, searching for internal damages and debilitating wounds that could prevent him from ensuring his safety. The first sign that something was amiss was the noticeable _lack of chakra_ in his veins, a cold sort of sensation having replaced the burning lava he often employs. What followed immediately after was an overwhelming kind of _hunger_ that could render a man temporarily hors de combat.

Without caring for subtlety, he scrunches his eyelids tighter, a groan leaving his lips as he curls into himself, akin to a shriveled shrimp. Which was already odd in itself since Madara was someone with a partiality for blood and pain, borderline masochistic even. He thrives in melees, craves pain like no other as it brought forth feelings of euphoria and _aliveness_.

This gut-wrenching hunger, however, was a different matter altogether. It made him crave for _death, _and Madara has _never_ been suicidal despite how much his mental state deteriorates over time and how manic he behaves in battle. When one dies, he fancies going out in a blaze of glory (_not that he did, but beggars can't be choosers_). For him to even _consider_ taking his own life... it made him snarl in _unadulterated rage._

By sheer stubbornness, Madara uncurls from his foetal position and moves to claw his way to his feet in search of sustenance, only to falter at the _hoof_ that appeared in his sight. A four-toed-hoof, to be more specific. Pain forgotten for the moment, Madara _stares_. Intensely.

If Madara was a lesser man, he would've fainted by now. Thankfully, he was not. He only shrieked _a little._

In hindsight, he should have realized how wrong his body felt in the first place. He blames the hunger for his lack of insight, it was making him delirious.

Shinobi training grounds him enough to compartmentalize, his focus sharpening as he raises rather unsteadily on all _fours_. With how near the grassy ground was in parallel to his sight, Madara could only assume that he was no taller than a domestic cat.

A once-over was enough to conclude that he was in the body of a Malayan tapir, and he was bipedal no more. But somehow, unlike other tapirs, Madara has a bushy mane that was styled similar to when he had still been human.

As much of a confident person he is, Madara wasn't entirely certain how to feel about his rebirth. He had somewhat been anticipating eternal damnation upon death, but reality, once again, proved to be more puzzling than man's wildest expectations.

Honestly, if he had been given the option to choose which animal he was to be reincarnated into, he would've preferred to be a feline. Cats were, at the very least, sophisticated creatures filled with the utmost grace. Tapirs, on the other hand, were lumbering blubbers that weren't at all pleasing to the eye.

Although, he grudgingly concurs, that shaping him into a meek type of animal was certainly a fitting punishment for a dominating battle maniac like Uchiha Madara. He sighs ruefully at that. What a shame that tapirs have no tusks or opposable thumbs. However, that didn't mean that Madara was going to accept the fate of being a herbivorous animal at the bottom of the food chain.

Madara would've proceeded to endeavouring self-discovery in order to be more confident in this new body of his. Unfortunately for him, his stomach refuses to cooperate and this left Madara with no choice but to swallow his pride. Sneering at the low branches of a hulking tree nearby, he stumbles towards it. Tapirs feed on vegetation, and as much as this pains him to act upon his primal instincts, the hunger was killing him, _literally_.

As he begrudgingly gnaws on the branches, he idly wonders why a tapir - which was a _crepuscular_ animal - has night vision, his eyes flicker back and forth to scrutinize his surroundings whilst he simultaneously ponders on his next course of action.

Somehow, Madara has a feeling that he _knows_ this forest, a feeling as if he had traverse through this location hundreds of times before, yet not at the same time. An odd sense of Déjà Vu, if you will.

"Oh dear, what a rare find! A newborn _yōkai_ with that much _yōki _and _without_ a guardian? It must be this one's lucky day!"

Snapping his head upward to glare into the leafy canopy above him, Madara was alarmed into doing a double-take, backtracking at the sight of the humanoid _creature _wearing a faded blue yukata.

If its gleeful voice filled with malicious intentions did not put Madara on guard, the creature's greyish skin tone, a lack of a face, and inhumanly long limbs would've inevitably done so. Even _Zetsu_ had not been this unnerving in its appearance. Madara couldn't help but question if his eyes were playing tricks on him, or if this creature was a demonic being and Madara was currently in Hell.

The demonic creature cocked its head to one side, and although its lack of facial features gave nothing away, it was no doubt enjoying Madara's wary response to its presence.

The tangled mess that was its blonde hair was floating by itself as if gravity meant nothing, the thin branch it was leisurely sitting on had not shifted despite how hefty the creature must weigh. It was as if the creature wasn't chained by the laws of the universe like humans were, as if the world does not register its presence into elements needed to form the mass that was a living creature's body.

Now that unearthly creature has made itself known, Madara became hyperaware of the spine-chilling cold that was radiating from it. How he had not noticed beforehand, he faulted it on his hunger pangs, which were still distractingly ongoing.

"Is the little one scared? Don't worry, this one won't allow the little one to suffer. This one is very merciful towards this one's food and will swallow the little one whole," It cooed giddily as it shifted into an unsightly crouch, as if a predator ready to pounce on its prey, the branch _still_ unmoving underneath it. "It's good that the little one woke this one up - this one had been injured by that hateful onmyoji and needs to replenish this one's yōki."

Madara didn't wait for it to finish whatever it was it wanted to say. He had already bolted as soon as it uttered the word 'food' from its mouthless face. Despite that, he could still hear its voice echoing from the surroundings.

Fleeing was not something he was proud of doing. But alas, as a tapir, he did not have horns or claws of any kind to defend himself with. Not even chakra.

When he hears the creature's gleefull laughter as it chases after him, he peers back. He regrets it almost immediately. The sight of the creature flying to catch him left him chilled to the bone. Its body was bent in an inhuman angle. It was eerie. He decided to focus more on his limbs' coordination, lest he trips over a wayward root.

Whilst his body worked its hardest to escape from that monstrous abomination, Madara's mind did not falter, it continues to develop hypothesis after hypothesis. With what little he had on hand, he could only come up with a probable answer that was riddled with a plenitude of holes.

When that faceless creature had made itself known, it had directed its unseeing gaze at him whilst praising itself for having good luck at finding a _newborn __yōkai_. It made Madara wonder if his regrets in life were intense enough to turn his soul into a yōkai_._

However, from what Madara knows, yōkai and ayakashi were myths told from elders to children as mere bedtime stories. They _weren't_ supposed to be _real_, along with their onmyoji counterparts. The creature had also complimented him on his abundance of _yōki _\- _demonic force, _his mind auto-translated for him - which was _most definitely_ the chilling not-chakra he was currently feeling in his veins.

As much as he'd rather not be in such a precarious situation in the first place, this did, however, bring forth satisfactory revelations. Madara still holds power, not chakra, but something wholly unnatural in a human (_or tapir, in his case_). Now, he just needed a way to survive this encounter long enough to utilize this power within him.

His cunning mind was distracted when his stomach, yet again, made its complaints. He stumbles slightly, and the sudden and raw sensation of the organ in question _eating itself_ from the inside out made Madara fall snout first into the grassy ground. He groans whilst inwardly shouting profanities.

"Oh dear, is the little one done playing onigokko? Then, _itadakimasu_."

Madara blanches when a shadow soon fell upon his tiny body, a sticky-like fluid dripping to the ground just slightly away from his face. Wearily, he peers at the faceless creatu-_youkai _that was looming above him, a fanged grin was on its neck, its head tilted heavenwards as its salivating mouth drew nearer.

Madara's current body couldn't resist its herbivorous nature to _quiver_. And he _hates_ himself for it.

_Pathetic_, he berates.

With a grunt, he raises to his feet and snarls, blunt teeth on full display. Uchiha Madara has never backed down even at the face of death, and he would not start doing so _now_!

Unaware that his wrathful nature had triggered awake this body's unearthly bloodline, Madara lost control of his senses and blackout. The last thing he saw was the faceless youkai rearing back and a purple hue lighting up the shadowed canopy above them.

* * *

When Madara came to, disorientated but refreshed at the same time, it was already dawn.

As soon as the memory of the previous night was recalled, his eyes snap open and he promptly jumps into a flight-or-fight stance. Unexpectedly, rather than come face-to-face with the faceless youkai, he was hit by the familiar and heavy stench of fresh blood.

There was a faded blue yukata on the grassy ground, almost dyed fully red, along with his surroundings. He could only assume that it used to belong to that faceless youkai's, blood and all.

(_Did he... _eat _it...? With that amount of blood... He did, didn't he...?_)

When Madara dazedly realizes that he could see two human appendages held defensively in front of him, sticky with blood, he turns his gaze downwards, his mind in turmoil. A sound of confusion was released from his throat as he studies his body, small and pudgy like a toddler's, and exposed. He was, once again, bipedal, and _not_ a tapir. He could also feel chakra in his system, the same amount he had at his prime.

Madara was confounded enough to fall back into his childhood habit of pulling at his hair whenever he was troubled.

Shaking his head to rid himself of the 'whys' and 'hows' since this was not the time for it, he grabs the only article of clothing available and wraps it around his body, uncaring that it was practically drenched in _youkai_ _blood_. It was _only_ blood. He had worn worst.

Due to to the garment's long length, he tore at it until it was a suitable length for him. Raising a hand to inspect the sleeves, he realizes that it was trembling. _He_ was trembling.

(_He feels ill. He ate it. **He ate it**._)

Madara didn't have time for this. He wasn't a weakminded civilian and he wouldn't go into shock just because of this. He was a shinobi. He knows to compartmentalize and prioritize.

Clenching his fists in a white knuckle grip, he left the area and took to the trees with the finesse of a veteran shinobi long used to tree traveling. The only way for him to understand where he was and what the youkai was, was to find someone - some_thing_. Or a village. Civilization meant information. And information meant comprehension.

He didn't ponder too deeply into why he wasn't feeling hungry anymore.

(_The back of his tongue tasted like blood and rotten beef. He ignores it._)


	2. Chapter 2

Madara was crouching on the bank of a naturally formed spring at the base of a waterfall, idly washing his hands from bodily fluids as bodies of kappas lay unmoving behind him, all mangled and missing a webbed limb or three. He had just finished yet another grueling session of interrogation for the _nth_ time this day. And it wasn't even noon yet.

Although he had sought after these creatures in search of answers at the beginning, he had long stopped pursuing after a few days of learning about youkai common knowledge and what little they knew of either humans or onmyoji. However, new ones kept appearing non-stop despite his inclination to avoid them, all uncouth in their desire to eat him.

Madara finds their persistence and lack of self-preservation highly unpleasant.

After the initial phase of learning how to deal with them, random encounters with these unearthly monsters became tedious at best, akin to pests and parasites.

With a displeased air clinging to his scrawny shoulders, he stares vacantly at the water's surface, hands having unknowingly stopped as he scrutinizes the surly face staring back at him. It was young, so very young, with baby fats still clinging onto the cheeks and unruly medium-length hair spiked everywhere, undeterred by his previous efforts at taming them into a ponytail. Madara guestimates that he was physically (_give or take_) five-years-old. At the very least, he retained his features. A familiar face was better than something else entirely.

The body, on the other hand, despite its human appearance, was anything _but_ familiar.

A five-year-old _should not_ have the stamina of a battle-scarred shinobi. A five-year-old _should not_ be able to punch through a boulder. A five-year-old human _should_ start to have cuts on their feet after a while of walking barefoot on rough terrain. A human _should not_ be able to see clearly in the dark. A human_ should not_ be able to endure _two whole months _without sleep with nil signs of apparent sleepiness.

Many additional unearthly indications led Madara to believe that he was human no more. He wasn't even a tapir. He was a _youkai_; a powerful one that exudes an abundance of yōki, which was, by all accounts, _mouth-watering_ to the youkai population. Because of his childish appearance and tiny body, an irksome number of gluttonous bastards would underestimate him. Those fools continually contribute blood to his already blood-stained yukata.

Embarrassingly enough, Madara hasn't yet figured out how to fully erase his yōki from being sensed like he had his chakra. They were too dissimilar. Whereas chakra was akin to flowing lava in his coils, yōki was frost that was crusting it, causing Madara to initially believe he had chakra no more.

(_Oddly enough, all the youkai he had encountered did not have chakra coils in them, evidenced by dissection and their immunity against genjutsu_).

Offhandedly, during his periods of undisturbed rests, he had discovered an aptitude for shapeshifting. Madara could shift from a human child to a tapir and vice versa. However, there was a downside to each form.

In his human form, he wasn't able to wield yōki as efficiently as he did chakra. In his tapir form, it was the opposite. Of course, there were benefits as well. For one, _normal_ foods such as wild fruits and animal meat were enough to diminish The Hunger he feels whilst in human form. And yes, _that _needed to be capitalized.

(_To retain what was left of his minuscule sanity, he avoids thinking too deeply about what he did to satisfy The Hunger in his tapir form._)

Stretching to a stand, he ignores the lone kappa that was cowering at the bottom of the spring and lightly shakes loose the drops of water clinging to his hands. Following his nose, he walks to the campfire he has going on, smokeless as adherence to shinobi training. There were two fat carps skewered on a long stick, roasting above the flames and whetting his appetite.

After determining that his fishes were still partially uncooked, he turns his attention to the unmoving bodies near the campsite. Madara has long been desensitized to eating near corpses, so when he makes his way over, it wasn't to drag the bodies away but to loot his spoils.

Interestingly enough, he discovered the use of youkai blood not long after he donned the then blood-soaked, blue yukata. It made an exceptional repellant against wildlife.

In all likelihood, the animals must have associated the scent of youkai blood with _danger, _their primal instincts inducing them to keep _at least_ half a kilometer distance from the source. Madara had a laborious time hunting for quarry thanks to that (_one time_ _he got so frustrated he stripped to his birthday suit to catch that damn, too perceptive, squirrel. From then onward, he decided on a fish-only diet to spare himself the humiliation of running around butt naked)_.

The products of pillaging were a handful of wild berries, some herbs, and a hand-drawn map that was yellow and wrinkled from age. Whilst sitting on a flat rock gnawing on his newly acquired edible berries, he studies the map... and finds it lacking. What a waste of his precious time.

Lazily tossing the trash over his shoulder, he proceeds to reach for his cooked fishes.

Time to eat.

"Aren't you going to share?"

Glowering, he mechanically turns his head to the speaker.

The speaker was a youkai in the form of a mature human woman in her mid-twenties, whose height was twice that of Madara's, enviable to him who was currently standing at only a meter tall (_3'3 inches_).

The youkai has long, dark blue hair which was fashioned to chin-length by golden ornaments, the fringe obscuring the right side of her face. Her lips and nails were painted a different shade of violet, along with the lids of her red, upturned eyes. She was cloth in a traditional kimono with overlaying purples and patterned with flowers and butterflies, which highlights her ghostly pale skin and willowy body nicely. Her feet were covered by a pair of white woolen socks and she wore geta sandals.

Perched on a low branch above him, she languidly brings her kiseru pipe to her painted lips, eyes never once leaving his.

This wasn't Madara's first encounter with this annoying youkai he calls a menace.

Initially, he would see her ever so often like this; sitting in trees as she smokes the day away. Every time he passed by her chosen tree for the day, they would both ignore one another, minding their own business, and would have remained that way if not for Madara's loud outburst.

He had grown _immensely_ frustrated at his lack of progress at finding the borders of the forest, but the breaking point was when he realized he had walked in circles for an entire day. He should have noticed after passing the female youkai numerous times, but he somehow _didn't; _as if something was playing with his sense of direction.

Following the days after that, she professedly got curious about the 'baby' youkai that had gotten lost in this wretched forest and had taken the initiative to inform him about the kekkai (_barrier_) set by an onmyoji clan that resides at the east outer border of this forest, acting as their pseudo warden.

The kekkai they had raised was a strong one that had been here for half a century - one which allows youkai entry but forbids them from leaving. In other words, this nameless forest was initially a youkai trap turned prison.

Madara wasn't naive enough to believe a stranger without evident proof, so he had threatened to kill her if she wouldn't guide him to where the culprits of their imprisonment reside. She had agreed.

Thinking back to it now, he had been rather foolish to trust a youkai to be amenable. Rather than showing him to the border, she had led him near a swamp, pushed him in, and floated away cackling like a demented duck on crack.

Madara had shrieked like a banshee, cussing up a storm. But unfortunately, even if he was Uchiha fucking Madara, defying the laws of gravity was not something he could accomplish without being the Juubi's Jinchuuriki. Their cat and mouse game continued for days until he decided that expanding energy to shout futilely at her floating figure wasn't productive and proceeded to pretend she was air.

However, Madara being Madara, the kind of insects he attracts were stubborn; Hashirama being the prime example. The beautiful youkai had introduced herself as Hinoe without a family name, and after a whole month of persistent stalking, she had grown on him like a fungus, her twisted sense of humor and extensive knowledge of Curses alighted a curiosity in him. He could do away with her constant whinging of being bored, though.

With a huff, he jumps into a stand and storms away with his stick of fishes, intending to find somewhere quiet to eat. Naturally, Hinoe would _never_ allow him to walk away from her when she was in one of her whimsical moods. She floats above him just to blow smoke into his face. The bitch.

"Stop brooding, chibikkoi. It'll ruin your cute face."

Madara's left eye twitched at the name-calling. "Go away, Hinoe!"

"Telling your guardian to go away, really rude," Hinoe sighs dramatically, slender fingers tapping the front of her kimono in a mockingly hurt manner. "This isn't how I've raised you."

('_Guardian_'. A loose term these demons use to describe someone willing enough to protect a newborn youkai from those that desire an easy meal.)

Madara snaps back, exasperated, "You _didn't_. In the first place, didn't you disappear somewhen to prank on that one-eyed youkai or something? Why are you following me?"

"My, you would think me so cruel as to prank someone whenever I'm bored?" At Madara's deadpan, Hinoe's teasing smile turns wicked. "We've only just started to familiarize ourselves with each other, yet you already know me so well. Consider me impressed. But no, I got hungry after watching that idiot trip all over himself, so give me half."

"No. Catch your own."

"Come on, don't be stingy. I'll even graciously share my stash of saké with you."

"Shut up, you drunkard."

"So young yet so ill-mannered."

"Damn hag, I'll show you ill-mannered-!"

"H-hey! Who are you calling a hag, you damn brat?!"

"Seaweed hair!"

"Shrimp!"

They bickered back and forth (_reminding him much of his time with Izuna_) until they reached a ginormous tree with a hollowed trunk. Madara entered his temporary home with one fish less whilst Hinoe perched herself on one of its lower branches, gleefully feasting on the fish she had managed to wring from him.

How very overbearing of her, he petulantly huffs.

As they ate in amicable silence, Madara ponders on a way to leave this accursed forest for the _nth_ time. He instinctively knows that chakra was the key, it was just that his knowledge regarding onmyoji and their spells were too inadequate for him to attempt at slipping out of the spiritual barrier undetected.

Additionally, Madara needs a sure way to measure his strength and weaknesses. He needed to know, worst-case scenario, if he would be strong enough to face down a clan of onmyoji on his own, what with being a youkai who was susceptible to being sealed like a Bijuu or made into a shikigami against his will.

"That's a serious face you have on," Hinoe suddenly spoke, her upside-down face peering into the trunk's hollow, curly hair askew. "What has you so stumped, chibikkoi?"

Madara sets his half-eaten fish aside with a frown, slightly peeved that he hadn't been aware of her movements. It seems that he needed further yōki sensing training.

Rather than answer her question, Madara asks his own, "How strong would you say you are against common youkai, Hinoe?"_ And what of onmyoji? _But he left that out, not wanting to hint her until his plan has fully formed.

Hinoe raises a brow, seemingly startled.

With a contemplative hum, the blue-haired youkai crawled into the trunk's hollow to sit next to him, a picture of inelegance despite her aristocratic appearance and demeanor. To an extent, this disparity between behavior and bearing reminds him of Hashirama (_he feels sentimental all of a sudden_).

Between the two of them, it was a tight fit.

"Chibikkoi really doesn't know anything, huh?" At Hinoe's deliberately loud musing, Madara shoves an elbow. She dodges his gangly joint easily, a smile gracing her lips as she laughs like tinkling bells in the wind. "I am a daiyoukai."

"A great demon," Madara repeats in a murmur, comparing the knowledge he had gained from all the previous interrogations and putting them into a prodding summary. "Youkai are supernatural beings, innumerable and diverse with varying species. When considering hierarchies, a _dai_youkai would be a higher level being. Indeed, from what I've observed, you do feel dissimilar to the others I've encountered. But what is it that makes you a daiyoukai, Hinoe?" _Is it because you have a chakra network like I do?_ He left that part unsaid. There was no need to give her additional information in case he had deduced wrongly. Besides, he could find that out by himself.

Hinoe continues to smoke her pipe as she stares at him with unblinking eyes. "Hmm. Are you curious about yourself?"

Madara hadn't been going in that particular direction, but he has to admit that such information would benefit him greatly. So he left his previous topic behind (_for now_) and nodded. Hinoe exhales a puff of smoke, hazing the interior of his little tree hollow and shrouding their seated figures in a blanket of translucent white. Madara refrains from coughing, but he did scowl harder.

"Considering how strong your yōki is despite still being in your infancy, I had presumed you to be one of them rarely borne daiyoukai with a pure bloodline. Indulge me, Madara, is this your original form? I was under the assumption that shapeshifting is an ability that would take _at least_ a decade to master, but when it comes to you, it's hard to say."

"Is this not _yours_?" He retorts, falling back on shinobi instinct to never give away any sort of personal information.

"Honestly, chibikkoi, you are far too tight-lipped. We need to loosen you up a bit. Here, drink this."

The blue-haired daiyoukai produced a bottle of saké from seemingly nowhere whilst two ceramic ochoko floated in front of his face, steadied by a plume of smoke underneath them.

Madara clicks his tongue even as he takes one offered cup. "Tsk. It's somewhat spectacular that you can say such words with a straight face. Hypocrite." Just because he didn't point it out, it didn't mean that he didn't notice her deliberately changing the flow of their conversation. His questions of how strong she was and what was it that makes her a daiyoukai were still left unanswered.

"I wouldn't be a demon if I'm always honest and straightforward, yes?" Hinoe smirks prettily, purple painted lips already chugging down her drink as if he needed further proof of her being a drunkard.

He huffs, reluctantly amused as he takes a tentative sip. As expected of a spiritual drink, its alcohol content was so strong it burned to his stomach. He blinks away the unshed tears and clears his throat to hide his discomfort. "Point. I suppose I could indulge you with a bit of information. No, this isn't my original form."

"I'll show mine if you show yours?"

Madara snorts. The way she phrased it was truly Hashirama-like; crude, uncouth, and so easily misinterpreted. How nostalgic.

"Ladies first."

"Really stubborn," Hinoe laughs. "But that's one of your charming points. I'm an enenra."

At the revelation, Madara looks pointedly at her kiseru pipe. Her only response was to smile coyly as she exhales a hefty amount of smoke from her lips. As if to demonstrate one of her abilities, the smoke that continues to drift from her pipe began to twirl into intricate patterns, as if it were alive. The wisps danced to an unheard tune, wrapping themselves playfully around his fingers. They were tangible.

Madara could think of more than a hundred creative ways to kill someone as an enenra. He made a mental note to be more aware of Hinoe and her movements from then onwards. Her danger level just went up _tenfold_.

"Now, spill. What type of youkai are you, chibikkoi?"

Madara contemplates whether it would benefit him from being honest with her. Hinoe did not, after all, _show_ him as she had said she would. She had merely told him what she was - and that could also be a possible lie. After a moment of pensive silence, he sighs silently in defeat.

Hinoe has been helpful thus far. So for the purpose of learning more about himself, he decides to, as she puts it, _loosens up._

"A tapir."

Unexpectedly, Hinoe's eyes bulged as she did a spit take, spewing saké everywhere. She shrieked, uncaring of the beads of saké trickling down her chin, "_YOU'RE THE NEW NIGHTMARE EATER_?!"

Madara let out a strangled sound, his nose wrinkling in disgust as he grimaces at his drenched yukata sleeve. At this rate, his stolen garment would bear a funky odor from all the blood and alcohol it was continuously doused in.

"Woman, that's _distasteful_," Was Madara's distracted response to Hinoe's startled exclamation, completely unaware that his presence and identity had long started to cause chaos in the youkai and onmyoji community.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I **DON'T** own Hinoe. She's not an OC. She is a youkai character from the anime/manga Natsume Yuujinchou. This is **NOT **a Naruto/Natsume Yuujinchou crossover. Hinoe's more like a guest-star since she wouldn't leave my plotbunnies alone and just bulldozed her way into this fic for the sole purpose of being Madara's sensei/guardian/friend/whatever ┐(ﾟ～ﾟ)┌... Sigh, for a BL lover, I actually sailed a ship for her and Natsume. I feel like I've betrayed my fellow fujoshi.
> 
> Chibikkoi = a cuter way of saying chibi/a term of endearment.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madara hates his peanut gallery.

Dramatic sputtering aside, Madara was finally able to settle Hinoe and gather the information needed to learn about himself. And from what he had learned, it was no wonder he no longer requires sleep, for he was the embodiment of it.

To make the long-ass explanation into a sweet, summary: a tapir youkai was one of a kind. Whenever they die, a new one would be born immediately, and normally, with memories of their past lives intact. They would know their duty to this world immediately, their role as Baku, the eater of nightmares and deity of good dreams. The god of sleep, to put it simply.

Unfortunately for Madara, he was a special case even amongst his kind. He remembers his past life, yes, but it was the _wrong one_.

Hinoe, fortunately, cleared up some of his confusion and explained to the best of her abilities. Of course, most of her information was speculation from rumors at best as she had only met the previous Baku once when she was a youngling herself.

Baku's primary diet consists of dreams and their appetite enormous due to the infinite amount of dreams in this world. Everyone living, from humans to animals, to youkai, to _gods_, all require sleep. It was no wonder Madara was not able to sate his appetite in his tapir form no matter how much he ate.

At least that was one mystery solved.

Another important fact he got from Hinoe was that onmyoji desired him as their shikigami. The benefits of having Baku as their underling was never-ending. Baku, as a being who could enter a person's dream on a whim, could gather information as easy as stealing kunai from a genin. They could become master spies without much risk.

As for how to use any of Baku's abilities, Hinoe could only shrug. She too did not know if the previous Bakus had offensive abilities. All that she knew was that they had big appetites and they were technically immortal since they would reincarnate endlessly with their memories intact. Madara was just the odd one out.

"... Something doesn't add up. If a tapir youkai is a unique existence, why did the first youkai I've met not recognize me?"

Hinoe seems to consider his words, a thoughtful expression appearing as she exhales a plume of smoke. "Are you averse to showing me your true form?"

"I'd rather not," Madara said stiffly. Whenever he shapeshifts into a tapir, he could feel The Hunger increase gradually.

"Then, can you draw it?"

"If you insist."

Hinoe retrieves a brush, an inkpot, and a yellow, aging paper from the sleeves of her kimono and hands it to him. Madara recognizes the paper as the map he had thrown previously. With an unimpressed look thrown at Hinoe, he slowly begins to draw. Due to his training as a shinobi, his hand was steady as the lines and curves begin to take shape.

When he was done, he shoves the drawing of his true form to Hinoe.

She blinks once, twice, and guffaws. Streams of tears were pouring down her cheeks by how hard she was laughing. "W-w-what..._pfft_... is this... _hehe_... round... pig-elephant-hybrid-like creature...?! **_AHAHAHAHAH_**! I CAN'T! THIS IS TOO MUCH! _HAHAHAHA~_! And what's with the- _hahaha_! The _hair_! That's definitely _you_! _BUAHAHAHAH_~!"

Madara was rightfully offended.

_Anyway. _Time quickly elapsed and it was now a week later.

After Hinoe had learned of his heritage, she became quite protective of him, patiently teaching him how to manipulate and hide his youki better. Apparently, the previous Baku had saved her life or something. She didn't elaborate on it and Madara didn't care enough to ask. He was just glad to be able to stop his youki from leaking out of him. It was embarrassing, akin to urinary incontinence.

Madara, of course, did his best to confirm the information soon after. The conclusion was that other youkai were bumbling idiots. The majority of them had been trapped for too long in this wretched prison of a forest, many have already lost their mind to insanity. The constant state they were in was hunger, hunger, and hunger. Unless they were near-death, then they would show fear. He didn't blame them. Hunger, to a youkai, was much worse. Madara, as a former human, could attest to that. With the limited space this prison provided, it was hard for all of them to hunt or scavenge for food without stepping on toes and getting killed. Furthermore, new youkai would turn up ever so often, baited by onmyoji or simply too dumb to realize that this was a one-way route. Madara was an unlucky bastard for being 'born' inside this prison, so no, he wasn't in any of those two categories.

But whatever. At least he knows what Baku's primary diet was now. Hence, he decided to test some theories.

When Hinoe dozed off in her usual tree, he sneakily crouches above her and transforms into his tapir form. The Hunger attacked his stomach instantaneously, but Madara does his best to fight it. As much of an annoying menace Hinoe was, she was also his friend (_not that he would ever admit that out loud_). He wouldn't want to accidentally swallow her whole or something.

He lightly jumps onto the branch she was sleeping on and settles his nose-trunk on her forehead, his touch as light as a butterfly's landing. Not knowing how to proceed from here, Madara decides to trust his instincts. If he makes a move to bite her head off, he would stop. But if those instincts could trigger one of his latent abilities, he would allow it to proceed.

It took a few moments for his gamble to pay off. Soon, a plume of pastel pink smoke appeared from Hinoe's forehead. He hesitates for a moment but ultimately uses his trunk to tentatively grab ahold of it as if it was tangible, and led it into his mouth.

An explosion of alcoholic tastes greets his tongue. In his mind's eye, he could see the _dream_ (_which was surreal_) he was eating play out. Hinoe was having a nice dream about binge drinking. Of course, the alcoholic would dream of such a thing. Madara fought the urge to roll his eye skyward.

When his gut feeling told him that eating more would be detrimental to Hinoe's health, he uses his blunt teeth to cut the plume of pink smoke, gulping the ones already inside his mouth and allowing the remaining to re-enter the daiyoukai's forehead. Hinoe shifted in her sleep, causing Madara to still, heart pounding, but when she didn't wake up, he breathes out in relief.

Knowing that his stomach was far from satisfied, he shifts back into his human form and decides to hunt for more game. He places a hand on the ground and closes his eyes. Sensing that the nearest youkai was not far north, he pumps chakra into his legs and ran. It was about time he sates The Hunger.

* * *

Madara gags unsightly and noisily regurgitate a plume of orange smoke. It erotically dances in the air for a moment or two, before drifting back into the ape-like youkai's forehead. He immediately strikes the color out of his menu. _Never_ _again_. Glaring one final time at the sleeping youkai, Madara shifted back into his human form and flickers away in a swirl of leaves.

The first rays of sunshine gently greet his eyes and warm his skin as soon as he takes a step out from the ape youkai's home-cave. He stretches his back and sighs in pleasure. It felt good to have finally eaten his fill after months of never-ending hunger pangs.

From what he has learned thus far, dreams came in different colors and flavors.

Pinkish - Dreams filled with indulges.

Orangish - Dreams filled with desires.

Reddish - Dreams filled with pain.

Blackish - Dreams filled with death and grief.

In total, he had eaten sixteen dreams last night. A single meal could take at most thirty minutes. If he were to indulge any longer than that, his victim would start showing signs of tachypnoea and flushing. He was curious about what could happen if he continued, but he hadn't been enjoying that meal (_dark orange with a tint of pink_) the longer he ate, so he left it at that. In addition to that, there hadn't been a lot of color variety if he was being honest. He reckons that has to do with how gloomy this prison of a forest was.

Intriguing enough, the flavors would differ even if the colors remained identical. For example; Hinoe's pastel pink dream tasted akin to the finest saké he had once drunk and warmed his stomach pleasantly. Another pastel pink dream from another youkai tasted as if he had been chewing on stevia the whole day and had him rinsing his mouth within seconds in fear of having his face permanently deformed via scrunching too hard. He couldn't even swallow a bite due to how disgustingly sweet it had been.

Speaking of disgusting dreams, although he had only eaten four orange-tinted dreams, he wasn't keen on having any more. They all tasted far too much of salt and musk. Apparently, youkai were creatures with many _dirty desires_. Madara couldn't contain the shudder that ran down his spine at the remembrance.

Knowing that he has now resolved the issue of sustenance his malnourished body craved for, he decided that it was time he started to explore his full capabilities as Baku. When one did not need sleep, one could only use that time for productive means. Fun times, no doubt.

Madara's grin was sharp and full of teeth.

* * *

In the blink of an eye, a year has gone by.

Madara remained painfully tiny and Hinoe continued to mock him for it, the bitch.

The onmyoji clan that has been acting as their jailors, as of late, has turned restless. They come and go, with their shikigami scouring the forest anxiously as if in search of something. In their desperation to find whatever they were seeking, many youkai have perished, leaving a trail of blood in their wake.

Madara has his suspicions. However, he would not do anything to confirm them just yet. He would rather not draw eyes upon himself whilst having the body of a five-year-old, it was too attention-grabbing and unusual to have a child running around in a forest full of hungry youkai. Hence, he hid whenever he senses them nearby.

Madara could feel how close he was to attain the right chakra-youki balance required to leave this prison of a forest. And as soon as he did, he would teach that arrogant onmyoji clan a lesson. How dare they confine him, the great and almighty Uchiha Madara, in a small forest like this?! Nobody takes away his freedom, _nobody_.

Standing domineering with his arms crossed near the edges of the kekkai with Hinoe smoking a few feet from him, Madara closes his eyes and concentrates on pushing his chakra out whilst simultaneously withdrawing his youki into a tight ball.

_10:1 ratio, Madara_, he reminds him, _10:1_.

He magnanimously ignores the way Hinoe was snickering at him. He knows he looks ridiculous with his pudgy cheeks and altogether chibi-ness, but couldn't she have the decency to _not point that out with her laughter_? He was trying to appear tyrannical and overbearing, just like his lofty adult self. It was hard enough to school his cherubic, five-year-old face into one of arrogance (_and not appear, Amaterasu forbid it, _cute. _Cue shudder_). Add in the peanut gallery's side giggling however and he feels like a child trying to act tough.

Fucking dick sucking, motherfucking bitch of a-

_No_, _Madara_. Concentrate. 10 to 1.

When he feels confident that he could trick the kekkai into thinking him a human with spiritual energy, in other words, an onmyoji, he tentatively stretches to poke at the invisible barrier. His finger passes through without resistance. _Success_! Madara's bares his teeth into a predatory grin (_again, ignoring the peanut gallery's cooing_). It had taken a lot of effort, a year's worth actually, but he has finally mastered the art of balancing his chakra and youki.

Hinoe congratulates him, clapping her hands in a frustratingly mocking manner. He turns his glare at her, cheeks puffing out angrily.

"Shut up, hag! Why are you even here?!"

"Even after a year, that mouth of yours hasn't changed at all," Hinoe pouted. "I'm not old." Says the centuries-old daiyoukai.

Unable to resist temptation, he rolls his eyes heavenward.

The daiyoukai was behaving more and more like Hashirama as of late. It was disturbing. He decides to pretend she was air and returns his attention to more important matters. After confirming that the kekkai would not react negatively, he quickly slips out of the transparent dome that surrounds the forest. Freedom has never tasted so delicious.

Just as he looks over his shoulder to assure his guardian that he would be back soon, Hinoe, without an ounce of hesitation, followed behind of him, face impassive as she continues to smoke her pipe. The kekkai opened up for her seamlessly, allowing for her to pass without consequences.

Madara gapes at her, mouth moving wordlessly as his brain tries to process what he had just seen.

"What the fuck?!" He finally shrieked. No one could blame him for nearly having a heart attack when Hinoe has shown zero signs of being able to leave this prison at any point in time. To see her just waltz out... He points at her angrily as he shouts, "If you could have left, why didn't you?! And how dare you keep this a secret from me?!"

"What kind of guardian would I be if I just up and left my ward behind?" The daiyoukai shrugged, a shit-eating grin playing on her lips. _Arsehole_! "You're so cute, chibikkoi, to think you could rid of me that easily. How naive~"

Madara's screech of rage made the animals near them flee.

_Baka Hinoe_, he mentally grumps as he continues to chase after her with his makeshift wooden kunai. From afar, they no doubt looked ridiculous. A pint-sized kid with wild hair racing after a cackling floating woman.

He was angry, of course, but most of all, he was _embarrassed_.

If someone had sealed his chakra and tied him to a chair, threatening to torture him within an inch of his life unless he explained why he would care whether or not he was going to leave Hinoe behind, Madara would be bloodied beyond recognition and probably be missing teeth and limbs due to his snark.

No way would he ever admit that he was planning to barge into the onmyoji's base on his lonesome to destroy the kekkai so that Hinoe would be able to travel with him outside. That would be too sappy and Madara was never good with emotions. Hence, to cover up his embarrassing idea, he made do with trying to murder Hinoe.

At least now he knows for a fact that Hinoe could use chakra.

After he got bored of chasing after a floating Hinoe, he huffs and marches to the direction of where a large amount of spiritual energy resides. They were vastly different from youki, yet somewhat similar. _Onmyoji_, he assumes, a serious glint in his eyes.

Hinoe drifted higher into the sky but remained in his peripheral senses. Good to know that he wouldn't need to worry about her being involved and risk being killed or sealed.

Madara allowed his shinobi instincts to take over, his steps became eerily silent and his movements hidden within shadows. He was mentally nearly ninety-years-old, and as a shinobi raised in an era of warring clans, his experiences were far superior, his master over his skills formidable. He has learned to not underestimate his enemies, of course, thanks to the fourth shinobi world war, but his confidence remained.

Truthfully, it would take five armies of shinobi from five different nations to truly tire him (_unless they were Hashirama_). Appearances were deceiving. Even in his five-year-old humanoid form, he could potentially be able to perform the overpowered Shattered Heaven technique, a jutsu that allows him to summon _meteorites_ down unto his enemies.

The only thing stopping him from annihilating his jailors was his desire to eat their dreams and enter their minds to learn more about this world's humans. Youkai weren't interested in them unless they smelled delicious or dangerous.

He has no idea if shinobi even exists here. Even Hinoe doesn't know, preferring to keep her distance. Her loathing of humans could be measured by Madara's loathing for Zetsu. And that was saying something.

When a mansion enters his sight, Madara shunshin to its roof and settles there. He would wait for night to fall, as that was the prime time to strike. As he waited, he meditates, Hinoe appearing next to him as if she was originally there, to begin with.

The sky soon turned dark. When he left his state of meditation and opened his eyes, a skewered fish was on his lap. He gnawed on the offering as quickly as possible and sneaks into the mansion via an open window after the was done. Time for dinner.

* * *

_Meanwhile at the Mori Clan Compound_

A young man donned in an emerald green onmyoji garb with a large emblem that resembles a tree embroidered at the back was seated at a tatami table inside a large room with an engawa, the shoji screens wide open in hopes that its resident would get a full view of the beautiful garden decorated with blooming sakura trees. The full moon was reflected off a koi pond just near it, giving the garden otherworldly tranquility.

The onmyoji, who has been drawing protective talismans, had his task interrupted by a servant boy.

"Pardon my intrusion, Seikichi-sama."

The onmyoji, Seikichi, looks up from his work.

He frowns.

Seikichi has never seen this retainer before. The boy, who could be no older than five winters, has a head full of spiky, shoulder-length black hair. It wasn't tied, nor was it kept tidy. It was wild, messy, and appeared akin to a bird's nest, contrasting greatly against his pale skin. The boy's cherubic features were aristocratic, and his pouty lips full. His pair of almond-shaped, dark eyes were penetrating; as if the boy could see through to a person's soul. Under his eyes were heavy bags, as if the boy had not had much sleep, though it highlighted his appearance rather than diminish it.

Due to the poor lighting, Seikichi couldn't see what the boy was wearing other than it was blue and faded. Shaking himself from his thoughts, Seikichi gestures for the boy to come closer. "What is your name?"

"This one is called Madara."

Seikichi frowns deeper. The boy, Madara, spoke too rudely. Although his appearance was well received, did no one teach him manners? He should have responded with '_this humble one is called Madara, my lord_'. After all, Seikichi was the head of the Mori Clan, a clan renowned for birthing skilled onmyoji and securing strong shikigami. In addition to that, his clan owned a youkai prison, the most secure of its kind.

This boy must have just started his training, he couldn't help but criticize. Who had been so bold as to allow this boy in his presence before the completion of his training?

"Why have you interrupted my work, boy?"

"I wondering when you will head to bed."

"Has nobody taught you to use keigo when in the company of someone superior?"

"My father did. However, I do not see anyone superior to me in this room."

Seikichi stood, furious that this boy would dare to disrespect him. Just as he raises a hand above his head in preparation to teach the boy some discipline, the boy _shifted_.

Gone was the boy, in his place now an animal identical to a Malayan tapir, but pudgier and pig-like. It could even be mistaken for a hybrid of some kind. It was no bigger than a household cat and has a mane on its head. There was a single white line underneath its eyes, causing it to have the appearance of eye bags. Strange for an animal.

No, not an animal. It was a youkai. How Seikichi had not sensed its youki beforehand was baffling, but now that he has, he felt an urgent need to have this creature, Baku (_tapir youkai are one of a kind, there was no mistaking this_), as his shikigami - or if that was impossible, to destroy it. This creature of legends was too powerful to be in the hands of his rivals. His greed would not allow it.

His actions were swift when he pulled out a handful of paper talismans that had been hidden within his sleeve and readied them. However, before he could have the chance of activating any of them, the youkai opened its maw, revealing blunt teeth and spewing purple clouds of smoke at an alarming rate.

_Poison_?!

Seikichi covers his lower face with the sleeve of his robe, but it was a futile effort. One breath was all it took for him to get knocked into unconsciousness.

The last thing Seikichi saw was the tapir shifting back into a humanoid child and a woman donned in purple garbs in the midst of entering the room. He knew no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you next chapter (o'ｕ≦o)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madara hates being a nomad.

"_Sooooo_... how's he tasting?" Hinoe asked as she waited for Madara to finish his buffet. "Salty? Musky? Tangy?"

Madara narrowed his (_too wide_) eyes at the older youkai for her unneeded _insinuations_. Hinoe only smiled innocently in return, unfortunately not at all worried about his baleful glaring. He huffed, dissatisfied. This dreadfully childish appearance was ruining all of his intimidation factors.

Still, to answer her question, he did slow in his munching to focus more on the flavor of his food rather than the information he was receiving from the man's departing conscious. "Like a vegetable trying its hardest to taste like meat and failing badly at it." Was the best description he could think of.

Hinoe chuckled, "That's an interesting way to describe your food."

She was uncaring of the clouds of smoke that was slowly slipping past her parted, painted lips. Madara would have been curious over the state of her lungs had she been human, but alas, she was a demon, so he merely scrunched his nose at the heavy smell of marijuana and went back to munching mechanically.

The dream was very... artificial-like. Just like the man himself. The head of the Mori onmyoji clan was an average joe with illusions of grandeur. Even the prison he flaunted was something that existed solely because of a freak accident.

The man's grandfather, the previous Mori head, was an eccentric person who liked to experiment on traps and barriers. Somehow, after decades of seemingly random experimentations, a prison was born in their _backyard_. The clan's reputation soared at the discovery; however, they weren't able to duplicate the result and faked it as a 'family secret technique' to hold their position in the onmyoji world. Their trick succeeded and whenever someone asked for advice concerning their own Youkai prison, they would snobbishly deny it as if they were too superior to talk to others.

Honestly, the situation was akin to Danzo pretending to be powerful after implementing as many Uchiha eyes onto his arm as he could manage despite otherwise.

_Anyway_.

Apart from learning about the Mori clan's pettiness, he learned a lot about this world after eating continuously for 10 straight hours (_and he was _still _hungry_). All of the Mori clan had long become drooling vegetables thanks to Madara's gluttonous actions. Not that he cared enough to feel guilty, mind.

To sum up it all up, this world was about the same as his previous one. The only difference was that spirits, ghosts, and shamans were real, and not old wives' tales.

Apparently, in this world, when a human dies with a lot of grievances, they were unable to move on to the Pure Lands. The longer they stay as vengeful spirits, the more warped they become. On the other hand, pure-blooded demons came from two already dead humans giving birth to another dead miniature human - no surprises there.

Onmyoji history has been an interesting eye-opener for Madara's already twisted worldview. However, because the members of the Mori clan were Madara's first guinea pigs, he was more than a little sloppy and many nightmares were consumed blindly without being processed, thus there were too many missing pieces to actually get a whole picture. He would need to visit other clans if he wanted to explore the extensive knowledge of the spiritual world.

But he digressed.

From what little information he had accumulated, the birth of the very _first _onmyoji was speculation at best.

Some say that the mother of the first had been attacked by a youkai whilst pregnant and gave birth to a spiritually aware baby. Whereas others contemplate them being the mix breed child of a youkai and human parent (_and it was "obvious" that the mother had been forced, as no right human would willingly procreate with a youkai. Madara couldn't help but snort. Human supremacy at its finest_).

All in all, history was confusing and he would be better off asking a youkai who had lived through that time period rather than depend on the bias of human knowledge. Winners write their own tales whereas losers perish without a body to even be buried. He would know from personal experience.

With a huff, Madara rubbed the pudgy belly of his five-year-old body and stood up to stretch. "Let's go Hinoe," he smirked deviously. "The prison's long overdue for a demolish."

* * *

"Sakurai-sama! Sakurai-sama!"

The rushing, pitter-patter of feet, as well as the loud yelling heard throughout the compound, caused many people (_though mostly servants_) to pause in their day=to-day activities, curious about what could have made this retainer yell so loudly. One such person was the man whose name was being called to high heavens.

A man, who could be no older than twenty, placed the shear he had been holding next to the magnificent bonsai tree he had been pruning. The shoji door behind him rattled as it was opened and closed within the span of a second.

Heaving a sigh, the man indulgently turned to look at the child he had picked up and made into his retainer.

The child, who was ten years old, whilst heaving and trying to regain his breath, couldn't help but allow his eyes to linger on his lord and savior's face for longer than entirely necessary.

The man was handsome, with long white hair tied into a loose ponytail using a blue ribbon. It reached down to his lower back, straight and not a strand out of place. His blue eyes were sharp and tilted upwards, somewhat akin to a fox, and he had red eyeliner smudged underneath. Rather than making him look feminine, it brought out the natural beauty of his features, defining them and causing him to appear otherworldly. Donned on his body was a light blue sokutai with gold and dark blue trimmings, and on its sleeves were crane wing motifs, giving the man an angelic and graceful impression. Wrapped around his hips was a white belt, and hanging on it were two rectangular ornaments as well as a small blue pouch. On his arms were elbow-length fingerless gloves which had blue beads wrapped around each, either for decoration or prayer, only the man himself knows. When he moved a step forward, a jingle of bells could be heard, those turquoise trousers not hiding the muscles one can see lining his legs. And finally, on his head was a tall hat, which nobody has seen him take off before.

When the man spoke, it was silky enough to tickle one's ear pleasantly. Only then did the boy seem to realize he was staring. Seeing the boy's embarrassment, he repeated his words with the patience of a saint.

"Calm yourself, my child. What has you so troubled?"

"This humble one apologizes for his rudeness! I come bearing bad news, my lord! Th-the Mori clan's clan barrier has somehow malfunctioned and their compound has been taken over by youkai! We haven't heard a word since then, but judging by how silent they have been, I don't think they're... _among us_."

The young man's face turned chilly at the news. Before he had any chance to move, much less speak, one of his beads cracked spontaneously without cause, giving it an ominous picture.

"What a bad omen," the man couldn't help but murmur whilst rubbing a jade-like thumb against the crack.

* * *

Madara gnawed ravenously on his forearm whilst bemoaning his never-ending hunger pangs. Whilst he had been distracted, Hinoe had left somewhen this morning (_probably to seek alcohol_) and hadn't returned, which meant Madara was left without his own brand of emergency rations.

If he was truly a human child, his so-called guardian would've been trialed for neglect and abandonment, he inwardly snarked.

Madara usually wasn't one to complain. But he was hungry- no, **_starving_**! However, the lack of living beings near him wasn't something he could control. Madara wouldn't even mind eating the boring nightmares of dumb animals, but they had somehow landed themselves in the middle of Kaze no Kuni, and all he could see was sand, sand, and_ more sand._

Madara blamed Hinoe. The damn drunkard had assured him that she was a great navigator and could lead him to the closest human settlement. He should've known better than to trust the word of an idiot drunkard who had gotten lost in the forest that was once a prison.

Fool him once, shame on her. Fool him twice, shame on him.

To add insult to injury, the sun was at its highest peak with no shelter in sight. Not only was he hungry, but he was also thirsty too!

Just as he was contemplating eating his own flesh, he saw colors that differed from the sandy horizon. Idly, as he continued to gnaw on his arm, he wondered if he was hallucinating. It wouldn't be the first time he experienced hallucinations in the middle of this godforsaken desert.

Maybe Hinoe has returned? One could only hope. But no, the blob wasn't purple. Additionally, there was more than one human-shaped blob advancing in his general direction.

Were they youkai? Humans? Madara didn't care about their species. If it was something that could sleep and dream, it was food to the Baku. In his mind, consumables have kindly landed themselves on his plate.

With a speed that could only be reached by shinobi or youkai, they neared fast. Madara prepared himself whilst waiting for them to notice his presence. His preparations went to waste, however. They were oblivious to his presence when they brushed along his side.

Lady luck must have finally taken pity upon him. With his lack of sustenance, he would have not lasted long in a fight. In his mind, Madara labeled them to be humans that weren't spiritually-aware.

Hinoe had informed him that despite having a human form, Madara still needed to practice being seen by the average joe. It was embarrassing to admit, especially to someone who strived for perfection, but he wasn't sure how to make himself _seen_ despite Hinoe's frustrating support.

Knowing that it wouldn't do to continue idling about, Madara leaped into action and followed brazenly after the group of shinobi. When they sleep, he would feast. For now, he easily followed behind his prey.

Surprisingly, it didn't take long for Madara to identify which village – or rather, which clan they belonged to. Their crest was what he was taught to fear and eliminate all his childhood and into his adulthood.

_Senju_.

There should have only been one Senju left alive (_he had made sure during his time spent in exile_), so why was he seeing five donned in armor that only those in Madara's generation would wear, sans Konoha headbands? One even looked similar to Tobirama, albeit on the smaller side, and had droopy eyes and skunk-like hair color. Had the albino been that small when he was, what, 10 years old? It was hard to believe.

This was disorientating.

Maybe it was the hunger pangs that were doing him in. Damn, Madara might even be hallucinating right now. Though it was insulting that his mind had conjured his brother's killer as a source of nutrition. Or maybe not. He was, technically, putting Tobirama in his pyramid of prey, after all. That was kind of satisfying.

Madara joined them in their travels as if he was one of them, having no need to worry about his safety for once when traveling with strangers. They were oblivious to his presence, after all.

Hours later, the group finally came to a stop at the bottom of a cliff's edge. There was a cave situated at the middle and could only be accessed by shinobi with tree walking experience or youkai that could fly, and had a high vantage point for scouts. It was the ideal location to rest for the night.

As the five began setting up camp, Madara sat himself down at the innermost corner of the cave to rest. Exhausted and starving as he was, he didn't have the energy to keep his eyes open for long. Unfortunately, he was the youkai of dreams. He was unable to sleep and could only meditate to recover his spent energy.

It was beyond uncomfortable to be so unguarded when in the presence of his childhood enemies, but beggars can't be choosers. There was also the added benefit of being invisible, which put some ease into his tensed shoulders.

As he continued to rest, he heard a man's commanding baritone, "Itama, you're up first. Takeshi, second. I'm third. Tadashi, fourth. Tashiro will be on last watch."

There was a round of murmuring approvals before silence reigned supreme. Shinobi have been conditioned to sleep as soon as they closed their eyes in order to conserve as much energy as possible. Despite his chronic insomnia, Madara had been the same, albeit only during missions.

At last, it was time to feast.

He rose, embarrassingly slow, to his full height of one meter, and lethargically dragged his feet towards the nearest sleeping shinobi, uncaring that he had stumbled a couple of times in his haste (_perks of invisibility_). Once he was close enough, he lowered himself to the ground and reached for the man's head. He was already drooling, eager for sustenance and knowledge.

However, just before he could extract that tantalizing cloud of nightmare from the man's forehead, his wrist was pushed. Madara did a full-body flinch at the unexpected contact, head snapping towards the direction of the offending appendage. It had retreated just as fast as it had appeared.

Red was the first thing he noticed, followed by a mixture of black and white. It was the child shinobi – the one that had a similar appearance to Tobirama.

What? _How_? Had that been a mistake?

Madara saw the half-albino(_?_) take a big step away from him whilst keeping eye contact (_the child had heterochromia, Madara idly noted_). There was a slight, nervous expression on Itama's(?) face before it evened out. This half-Tobirama & half-Hashirama oddity spoke in a whisper so soft he had to strain his ears to hear, voice so very young and tone respectful, "We have not harmed you nor have we intentionally intruded on your territory. Please, let us rest here for the night, youkai-san. We will leave as the sunrise."

"You... You can see me?" Surprised words left his lips. Madara was too baffled by this turn of events to have realized he had lisped due to his childish tongue.

… There seemed to be a misunderstanding somewhere? Madara would rather call forth a rain of meteorites to decimate this entire desert than to claim it as his territory. Madara only wanted to grab a quick bite to build up strength so he could start searching for his dumb drunkard of a friend.

Itama's(?) lips moved as he continued to try and communicate with Madara. _Try_, being the keyword. Madara's stomach had impeccable timing. It let out a humungous roar, akin to a wounded beast that was on the verge of death. He was just so _hungry_.

The boy's face suddenly turned a shade pallor.

...?

Hn, he must've spoken the last bit out loud.

Wait, had he lisped? Sage damn it, he hoped he hadn't lisped. He already had enough of Hinoe making fun of his high-pitched, squeaky voice and lisp!

"W-We don't taste good. We haven't showered in a week and we're covered in sand from our travels," Itama(?) squeaked, flustered. "I have food that would taste much better than meat."

Before Madara could correct the misunderstanding – he was not a _cannibal – _the chibi stretched out a hand. In his palm were two ration bars. Madara scrunched his nose in distaste. This little liar.

Leave it to a Senju to be the bane of his existence even as a child. Not only was his intentions misunderstood, but he was also offered _crap_ that was worse than any consumables out there. Madara really did have abysmal luck to run into a spiritually-aware human.

Since he wasn't in the mood to dance (_he'd feel too much of a bully otherwise_), he reluctantly accepted this child's offering. Fine, he would just have to wait for Itama(?) to rotate watch. Then, Madara could feast.

With a disgruntled look thrown towards the ration bar, he took a dainty bite to test the waters. Regret was _instantaneous_. He had forgotten how disgusting these actually tasted during his younger years. Overlooking his current body's appearance, he didn't realize his glare was more of a pout, and it had unintentionally eased the tension out of Itama's frame, enough for curiosity to take root.

Senju Itama – and by extension, his brothers – by fate's hand, was compelled to get close to this seemingly random chibi youkai.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, everyone.  
I'm quite surprised the world hasn't ended yet with how 2020 has been.


End file.
